Into the West
by WhenTheThrushKnocks
Summary: The Battle of Five Armies rewritten from Bilbo's POV with a side of Bagginshield.


**Disclaimer: A lot of this is paraphrasing from Tolkien. Also, I do not own any of the characters :( The song at the end is Into the West from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack.**

After Thorin banished me using the Arkenstone to bargain with Bard and Thranduil, we had hardly made it back to the camp when Gandalf arrived to warn all of us of the approaching army of Goblins. Thorin, of course, refused to leave the mountain and help us, but we did have the aid of Dain when he arrived—you see, Goblins are foes of all, and all of our arguments were forgotten to deal with their threat.

We soon realized that our only hope was to trap them in the valley between the arms of the valley, but this too was perilous if the goblins had enough to overrun the mountain itself, and then attack us from above and behind. We had no time to make any more complicated plan, or summon any help.

The elves were on the southern side of the mountain, on the lower slopes and in the rocks at the mountains feet. The dwarves and men were on the Eastern slopes. Some of the more nimble men and elves climbed higher up the mountain, and they saw that the lands around the mountain we black with the mass of the goblin army. Before long, the vanguard came rushing into Dale. These goblins were riding the swiftest of the Wargs, and there battle cries could be heard from the mountain. Few tried to resist them, and those that did had no success.

The goblins fell into the trap, rushing between the elves and men and dwarves, black and red banners waving, charging with wanton fury. The battle was a terrible one—by far the worst of my experiences. I regret to say that I did not play much of a part—if I had, maybe it would have changed what happened, but likely not. Quite early on I put on my ring and vanished from sight—though not from danger. The ring protects you from being seen—not from being run through by a goblin's spear, intentional or no.

The elves were the first to charge. Their anger—especially Thranduil's—towards the goblins is personal. They were lethal, killing many of the goblins and wargs as soon as they entered the valley. Their arrows rained down on the goblins, and their swordsmen charged by the hundreds.

Just as the goblins began to recover from the deadly onslaught and the elves' charge was stopped, a cry rang out. "For Moria!" and "Dain, Dain!" as the dwarves of the Iron Hills joined the battle, and beside them the men of Lake-town.

The goblins panicked, for as this new attack came the elves charged once more. Already many of the goblins were retreating, running back along the river; and their wargs began to turn on them, maiming the dead and wounded. Victory seemed sure to all of us, when a cry rang out from the heights of the mountain.

Goblins had scaled the mountain from the other side, and many were on the slopes above the Gate. Others came screaming down, caring not for those who fell from each cliff and precipice, to attack the armies from above. We did not have nearly enough to stem the approaching tide, not for long at least. It became clear that we had only stemmed the first onslaught of the coming black tide.

As the day went on, the goblins gathered again in the valley. A host of wargs came in, and with them the bodyguard of Azog, the Pale Orc. Goblins and Orcs of huge size guarded him with scimitars of steel.

Soon darkness was gathering in the sky, and Bard was fighting to defend the East, but slowly giving way. The elves were gathered to their king in the South, near Ravenhill, trying to hold the goblins back but losing ground.

It was at this point that Thorin and the rest of the Company decided to join the battle—later they told me that they had finally convinced Thorin it was to his advantage to help fight the battle.

They opened the Gate, and came through with fearsome battle cries, resplendent in their armor, murder in their eyes. Warg and rider alike fell before them.

"To me! Elves and Men! To me! Dwarves of the Iron Hills! To me!" he cried.

The dwarves rushed to him, heedless of other orders, and many men and elves rallied also. They charged into the valley, littering the ground with the corpses of the goblins. Thorin and the company drove all the way against Azog's guard, but try as they might they could not pierce their ranks.

But already behind him many lay dead, many men and dwarves and elves that should have lived on. Their numbers were too few, and soon they were surrounded. The bodyguard of Azog came screaming against Thorin and the company, and the others could not help them, for the goblins on the mountain had renewed their attack also, and the elves and men were slowly beaten down.

I watched all of this in great sadness. I took my last stand with the elves, partly because there was more chance of escape from there, and partly because I would rather defend Thranduil. Gandalf, too, was there, sitting on the ground, contemplating one last blast of magic.

The end did not seem far off. _It will not be long now before the goblins take the Gate, and we are all killed or driven away. How tragic, after all we've gone through, for it to end like this, and for so many to die for naught,_ I thought. _In the songs you hear, they always make it seem that defeat can be glorious. It is not glorious, not in the least, when you have come so far, come so close, and then fail._

However, the clouds broke for a moment, and I glimpsed something in the sky. "The Eagles! The Eagles!" I shouted. "The Eagles are coming!"

They came down on the wind, an enormous host, one that must have been gathered from all the eyries in the North. My cry was soon taken up by the elves and spread across the valley. Many eyes looked up, though no one could see them, save from the southern shoulders of the mountain. Their fury was renewed, and at this point I decided to rejoin the battle.

From there on it is a blur to me—I remember the Eagles joining in, and later Beorn and more of the skin-changers, but the battle itself is a blur.

When the battle was over and the goblins vanquished, many of all races lay dead. I searched for familiar faces, but in the heat of the battle I had separated myself from my friends. The first to find me was Bofur.

"Thank Mahal you're safe," he said. "We finally convinced Thorin that he was wrong about you, Bilbo. That's why he came out—he charged for you—but you must come with me. Thorin was injured—he is alive, but barely. Fili and Kili are also gravely injured."

When they arrived at the tent where Thorin and his nephews were being tended, they were met with sad news. Balin stopped them and said, "Fili and Kili—they didn't make it. They told me to tell you, Bilbo—they told me to tell you that they would have been honored to have you as their uncle. They told me to tell you to marry their uncle first chance you got—they—they didn't know that Thorin is dying too," Balin was fighting back tears. "They were like sons to me—all three of them. I raised them, and now I'm going to outlive them all."

I was shocked, to say the least. _How could they be gone?_ I thought. _They were so cheerful, and so young. They did not deserve to die, especially not this way._

I was still reeling when I pushed past Balin and the rest of the Company to see Thorin. I didn't care if he was still mad at me, I just knew I had to see him one more time. When I went into the tent, he was awake, but visibly fading.

"Thorin?" I asked tentatively.

"You survived—good. I can't say the same for myself, though. Before I go—I forgive you. I made a mistake banishing you, and the things I said to you—I didn't—I didn't mean them. I did mean what I said to you before we reclaimed the mountain. I love you, and I will always love you."

"Thorin, please don't give up. You can survive, I know you can."

"I can't. I can't survive these wounds—not without a miracle. Just—do two things for me."

"Anything."

"Take care of my nephews. Keep them in line. I know Fili will be a good king."

I nodded, not wanting to upset him more by telling him that his nephews were gone already. "What—what is the other thing?"

"Never forget me," he said quietly. "I could not bear it if you forgot me. I will find you again, be it in the next life or any of the lives after it. I will see you again, Bilbo Baggins."

With this, Thorin took a deep breath and closed his eyes. I watched as the life left his body, and I wept. I am not ashamed to say I wept like a child.

I was left alone for hours, until someone came into the tent to take me away. The days were a blur after that. All I remember is singing this song for Thorin's funeral, just before he was lowered into the ground:

_Lay down  
Your sweet and weary head  
Night is falling  
You've come to journey's end  
Sleep now  
And dream of the ones who came before  
They are calling  
From across the distant shore_

Why do you weep?  
What are these tears upon your face?  
Soon you will see  
All of your fears will pass away  
Safe in my arms  
You're only sleeping

What can you see  
On the horizon?  
Why do the white gulls call?  
Across the sea  
A pale moon rises  
The ships have come to carry you home

And all will turn  
To silver glass  
A light on the water  
All souls pass

Hope fades  
Into the world of night  
Through shadows falling  
Out of memory and time  
Don't say: «We have come now to the end»  
White shores are calling  
You and I will meet again

And you'll be here in my arms  
Just sleeping

What can you see  
On the horizon?  
Why do the white gulls call?  
Across the sea  
A pale moon rises  
The ships have come to carry you home

_And all will turn  
To silver glass  
A light on the water  
Grey ships pass  
Into the West_


End file.
